Not My Business
by Wammy's House Dropout
Summary: It's not Kisame's fault his partner is so weird./ONESHOT/


**It took me way too damn long to actually publish something -/-**

 **This is a rambling, almost stream-of-consciousness story involving observations Kisame makes in regards to Itachi. But hopefully it's a good ramble :)**

 **Don't own Naruto. If only, if only.**

 **Please review, critique, etc. :3**

Kisame had killed and watched people die for pretty much as long as he could remember. He never really thought one way or the other about it- it was just the way things were. People died in bloody masses on the battlefield in droves, so many that he didn't bother remembering any of their names. There was no point.

However-

The people Kisame watched always died a quick death. Their end came relatively quickly; death usually took them in a manner of minutes. A few unfortunate souls survived to moan and groan for a few hours or days before succumbing to their wounds. After that, they were done, and their suffering was over.

He never saw anyone last for months- for years on end, clinging to life through sheer willpower. Fighting against unbearable agony every waking moment just to draw another breath. He'd never really seen anyone die what he would consider a slow, lingering death.

Now he wishes it had stayed that way.

* * *

He didn't particularly like Itachi when they first met. He was short, he was scrawny, and he came across as one of those uppity rich kids with a privileged sort of upbringing- the type of person Kisame deeply despised.

Still, spoiled little shit or no, Itachi was strong enough to kill off every last one of his clan, so he wasn't too keen on pissing him off. Besides, if he was gonna be partners with the kid, he might as well try to get along.

Itachi settled into his space in their shared room, tossing his bag into a far corner and removing his bloodstained armor.

Kisame turned his attention to Samehada, making sure it was in pristine condition for his next mission. However, he kept the edges of his vision trained on his new partner, trying to size him up.

A quick glance revealed that, skinny as he was, the boy was incredibly toned, and it was easier to understand how the hell the kid could be a Shinobi.

Once his heavy armor had been removed, he let out a heavy sigh, falling down on the bed like a marionette with strings cut. Out of the corner of his eye, Kisame notices the scars and bruises littering the boy's skin. The traditional spiraled ANBU tattoo marked his shoulder. A large, ugly sort of scar marred the right side of his abdomen. Nothing that he wouldn't see on any Shinobi worth their salt.

However…

There were layers of bruises ringing his neck and upper arms. Bruises shaped oddly like handprints.

He doesn't have the time to process what this meant, however.

"I know what you're doing." Itachi growls.

Kisame covers up his shock with a smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"You're watching me."

The kid raised his head from the pillow, shooting him a glare that could freeze Hell itself. The black in his irises bled into the crimson of the Sharingan.

"Keep your eyes to yourself," He snarled, baring his teeth like a cornered wolf.

Kisame laughed under his breath, but lowers his eyes and indulges the kid.

"I'm going to sleep."

"Whatever blows yer skirt up, kid."

Itachi lets out one more growl, but quickly falls silent. He buries his face in the pillow once more, and quickly succumbs to exhaustion.

His breath has the slightest little wheeze at the end of it, but Kisame doesn't pay it much mind.

He calls softly for his mother in his sleep-

but that's not Kisame's business.

* * *

Itachi turns out to be a good partner. He watches Kisame's strategies and adapts his own to match. He is a quiet and efficient killer, and Kisame can sure as hell respect that.

That anger he let show their first day together seemed to be gone, and for the most part he seemed amicable enough.

He hardly ever spoke, so Kisame ended up talking more than usual to fill the silence between them. He can't really tell how much Itachi is hearing, though- he often has a faraway look on his face, as if his mind is somewhere else.

In fact, the kid often had that exact same look, even when being lectured by Konan or Pain. It gave the impression that he wasn't all there in the head. Which was weird, since Itachi didn't strike him as a daydreamer.

Itachi seems to love sweet food more than anything else. He usually eats boxes of pocky and liters of sugary tea in lieu of proper meals. It was kind of cute, actually. When he _did_ eat proper food, it was usually plain onigiri and not much else. That was kinda funny too; Kisame chalks it up to his privileged upbringing giving him the luxury of being picky, and indulges him when he asks to stop at various tea houses when they're out together.

He still cries out for his mother at night; cries so soft as to barely be audible. These days, they're interspersed with a ragged coughing that sounds frighteningly like a seal barking.

But Kisame isn't about to ask about it.

It's Itachi's business after all.

* * *

Itachi is paler than usual these days.

He's always been pale, sure- he was always bright red and sunburnt after they spent too long outdoors without his cloak on. It was just genetics, he supposed.

But lately, he was a different sort of pale. His skin was paper-white and bloodless. Or maybe it just looked that way because of the dark rings under his eyes that just kept getting darker by the day.

His late night coughing fits had begun to leak into the daytime hours as well. Frankly, it's a marvel it hasn't affected their missions yet.

Kisame is pretty sure Itachi has something seriously wrong with him at this point, but he doesn't say anything about it.

It isn't his business.

* * *

So, Itachi isn't the last Uchiha after all, huh?

Kisame wonders why Itachi would spare his little brother. It doesn't seem like his style; Itachi always came across as pretty ruthless to him. It just doesn't feel right.

But hell if what he just did to the little brat wasn't fucking ruthless. The kid would be lucky if he could ever walk straight again after the beatdown he received.

Something was wrong though. Something off about his actions. His motions were a little too mechanical, his words rehearsed and lifeless- even for Itachi.

After their little trip to Konoha, Itachi didn't leave their room for days. He spent nearly all his time laying in bed in his pajamas, staring blankly at the ceiling. Maybe Kisame worried a little, but he told himself that Itachi was just tired after using his Mangekyou Sharingan too much. Maybe he was just hoping not to see his brother again.

After a couple days, though, he emerged, hair disheveled and looking ghostly. He then proceeded to eat every last sugary thing in a single sitting, much to the shock of Kisame and all the others. But Kisame doesn't really worry.

It didn't matter.

It was Itachi's business, anyway.

* * *

Shortly before Itachi's nineteenth birthday, his health takes a sharp decline.

His skin radiates heat like a furnace. His skin turns ashen gray, and he starts losing weight at an alarming weight (and the kid didn't have much weight to spare to begin with). He loses any appetite for even his coveted sweets, and any food he manages to choke down comes back up within the hour.

Kisame doesn't say much, but he does sometimes hold the boy's hair back while he vomits blood into the toilet.

Neither Sasori nor Kakuzu can tell what's wrong with him. He refuses to quit missions or take any sort of time off to attempt a recovery, however, and through some miracle pulls through every time.

Kisame can't help but wonder, though; how much longer can he keep this up?

At the same time, he starts to worry a little bit.

He can't help it. He likes Itachi. Hey, it isn't his fault he got attached after all the years they've spent together.

Even though he cares, though, he can't bring himself to ask Itachi to take a goddamned break.

After all

It isn't his business.

* * *

Itachi is dying. That much is painfully obvious now.

He is skeletal and gaunt. sunken-eyed and visibly in pain every waking moment. His fingers are stiff and awkward, barely able to form hand seals anymore. When they aren't out on missions, he's usually in bed, trying to catch what little sleep he can manage.

But Itachi is okay with that. In fact, it seems to make him happy knowing he's in the dusk of his life. Something about that makes Kisame's stomach twist into knots of pity and disgust.

It's almost over though. After tomorrow, it will finally be over.

Because tomorrow is when Itachi will let Sasuke get the revenge his heart had been set on for so long.

Kisame sits on the edge of the bed, feeling at a loss for anything to say. Itachi reaches out and touches his hand. Kisame looks up at him, furrowing his brow.

"...I'm sorry." Itachi says softly, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"Eh? For what?" Kisame asks, confused.

Itachi shakes his head and sighs softly.

"I really do like you," he whispers. "Maybe if things were different, we could have been better friends."

Kisame growls a bit. He's totally not getting choked up or emotional at all. Nope. Totally not trying not to get upset.

"Shut up," He scolds.

Itachi frowns. Are those tears in his eyes…?

"I wish things were different. I wish I could have been better...I...I wish I could change so many things- I'm so sorry. I-"

His breath is stolen from him with violent, bloody coughing. He is never able to finish what he was trying to say.

Kisame shakes his head.

"Go back to sleep, alright, Itachi-san? It's alright. There's nothing to apologize for."

After a little bit, Itachi falls into a restless sleep. Kisame stays with him while he tosses and turns and begs for his mother.

And, even though it makes him sad, he can't help thinking that maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better that Itachi be put out of his misery.

Maybe

But that isn't his business.

* * *

Itachi's kid brother is similar to Itachi, but not enough to ever really be mistaken for him.

He's quiet like Itachi But he isn't really sad. More than anything he's angry. His entire body is tense and shaking with silent rage, boiling just beneath the surface.

He knows the truth now. And Kisame does, too.

And he thought Kirigakure was heartless.

To do those things to a kid...to force a kid to do the unthinkable…

Kisame had always been eager to kill. Quick to violence and more than happy to cause a little bloodshed.

But Itachi wasn't like that.

He was a gentle soul. He was too kind for such a cruel world. People like him should never be soldiers.

Kisame had always thought that kind and gentle people were merely weak, and didn't deserve to live.

He was wrong.

Itachi was strong. He took on a burden far too great for him, and bore it without complaint. He allowed himself to be thrown to the wolves, allowed the one person he loved more than anything else- his only little brother- to hate him.

To kill him.

Itachi's body was brought back from the battlefield, cleaned up and wrapped in white cloth. The Uchiha were traditionally given a funeral pyre, and Sasuke was determined Itachi should have that same dignity.

He wanted to be alone, but reluctantly allowed Kisame to be present as well.

When he lights the pyre, Itachi's body is quickly engulfed. Kisame almost has to look away; it just seems so wrong. Burning Itachi was the final proof that he was really gone forever.

Hot tears are pouring thick and fast down Sasuke's face. He screams in frustration and impotent rage- but, most of all, sorrow. He sinks to his knees, so close to the inferno it singes the ends of his hair.

"Nii-san…" he whimpers; it's so childish it's almost heartbreaking.

It takes what feels like an eternity for the fire to die down. All that's left of Uchiha Itachi is the ashes. Sasuke gathers them up and releases them to the wind, drifting away with the flocks of migrating crows.

And like that, Itachi is finally free.

Kisame can't help but let out a joyless smile.

"You always liked those damn birds, eh, Itachi-san?" He mutters under his breath.

Itachi was always fond of crows. He often went outside just to watch them, sharing his food with them and conversing with them like they were old friends. Kisame always thought it was weird.

But that wasn't his business.


End file.
